


love, the everlasting insanity

by HiddenEye



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-Season/Series 06, Sweet, how many times can i write them kissing: a thread by me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 06:37:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15188969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenEye/pseuds/HiddenEye
Summary: “How are you?” Keith murmurs, wrapping his arms around his waist to press a kiss under his jaw.Shiro waits for Krolia to walk inside the house before he’s pulling Keith closer to his chest and kisses him fully on the lips, smothering the chuckles Keith makes against his mouth when he notices his antics.“So modest,” Keith breathes, delighted. “It’s not like she’s gonna make a comment.”“I can’t help but be a little embarrassed whenever I kiss you in front of your mother,” Shiro replies, the tip of his ears heating up. When Keith grins, Shiro ignores it mostly to study his windswept hair, having the sudden urge to run his fingers through it. “Have some decency, Keith.”





	love, the everlasting insanity

**Author's Note:**

> The first time I wrote the last 3k of this fic, it was a whirlwind of emotions and I physically felt my soul go through the loop-de-loop of the rollercoaster because. WOW. Writing is actually fucking awesome when I’m not letting myself be dragged across the scrubber of death. God damn.
> 
> Anyway, I do hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it!

“I didn’t expect myself to come back here.”

Keith stays quiet; eyes down, only waiting for her to continue as he leans against the headboard of the bed she once laid beside her lover, his father. Shiro has his head against Keith’s chest, an arm around his waist, exhausted and deep asleep while Keith runs his fingers through his silver hair with tender strokes.

It’s watching a past of herself again in the scar on his cheek and the lowered lashes of his silence. There’s almost a deafening ring in the too far quiet bedroom as she stands at the entrance, tentative in a way she doesn’t dare prod into the air of the past, but at the same time yearning for the same energy she once lived through. The room is the way as she remembers it even if it’s a different building; with the peeling wallpaper at the corner of the wall, a lamp on the bedside cabinet, and a smaller bed frame. What it misses is the cradle near the window, a baby who sleeps soundly in it.

She misses this, she misses how she used to be in the same position as Keith had with Shiro, she misses having the ability to touch someone with the same type of affection.

This shack —smaller than the house, before it was burned to the ground— still holds her lover in every crook and cranny, in every dip of shadows that lurks by, in the mourning sigh of the soft afternoon breeze. If she closes her eyes, prays to the gods she never actually left behind, she would feel his hand in hers again with all the little words he spoken to her alone breathed against her ear, as if the fire hasn’t taken him from her and Keith in the first place.

If anyone ever asked her the quality of her love for the man she sired with, she would only show them her son’s avid dedication to the person he has saved in many, many lifetimes. Their love is what some wanted and did not get, what _she_ would have wanted to last for a very long time.

The contributions Fate dropped into her life is one she hasn’t had the ability to overcome. She is a warrior first to this universe and a mother second, a lover next, and a wife last. Krolia is forced to leave the people she would’ve held in her palms for the next of this reality, in this world.

But with all the hardships she grits through, she’s grateful to have her child back, to have Keith standing beside her after years of buried guilt and consoling a weeping heart. And she’s more than thankful to have someone who loves him when she and her lover are forced into limitation.

“I wanted to, dreamed of it even, but I told myself it wasn’t the time because I still have to finish this first,” She doesn’t tell him the urges that came with it, when the corner of her mind is shadowed more and her throat threatens to close; she has thought of giving into the instincts a mother would to find her child, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t. “I still have to help them bring down the empire.”

When Keith looks at her, the intensity of his gaze reminds her of his father. The hand he has in Shiro’s hair stops its ministrations, simply letting his fingers be tangled within it. “We’re not even halfway done now.”

“You’ve done more than you could ever imagine,” she replies, holding onto his look. “We wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for you and your friends.”

Because it’s true, without them piloting the lions, there would be no Voltron. The beast itself has done its required work that she used to think would  be impossible to accomplish with what dwindling resources the Blade have in their fist — one in terms of physicality as their members are stretched far and thin across the Galran borders.

She lets her eyes flicker down. “He wouldn’t be here without you too.”

The hand he has on Shiro curls the slightest bit under her attention. It’s protective, possessive even, amplified through the years of trust they’ve stacked and the promises they’ve uttered.

“We should’ve just stayed with the Holts instead of dropping here first,” Keith says, and when she looks up he has his gaze on Shiro again. “The Garrison’s too near to this place, they could’ve just barge in and shoot us down the moment they see us.”

“An hour worth of land transport is cutting it thin,” she agrees. “But, it’s enough for us to escape.”

He’s ansty, she can see the way he tries to hide it in softening the tense of his jaw. “Too many things happened here that couldn’t be considered as normal casualties for the past couple of decades. They would’ve planted some sort of alarm to warn them the moment we landed.”

Shiro’s arrival, like hers she suppose, might have triggered something the moment both of them entered the atmosphere. But, the shack they’re in now isn’t within Garrison’s range, his father tells her this the second week she overstays her welcome.

Keith might also be right. They could’ve have stationed ports near the edge of their borders after two extraterrestrial events landing on Earth soil, and their satellite would’ve detected something if there’s a stir in energy just outside the line. What’s even grating is how empty the same cave the Blue Lion has once occupied when they wanted to hide the lions for the time they’re staying there; they expected red tape covering the entrance, not just the rubble they left behind more than a year ago.

The moment Keith sees this, the obvious leftovers of punctured walls and disturbed debris, he leaves, using the red hoverbike he’s pulled out to find somewhere more secure even if the distance it is to get to them later would stretch further off the coast of the shack.

It’s a risk, but they have to protect the lions before someone else takes them.

It’s expected Haggar would have given orders in apprehending the lions; what would be worrying if the Garrison decided to have their own agenda in using them as well, since the tale of having Shiro strapped to a cot and sedated to sleep set off warning bells in her head when she stares at Keith in mild bewilderment.

She could still see the anger flickering in his gaze as he hunched over the fire, poking it with a long, thin stick. She learned a lot of things during their time on the large beast, and finding out that the same organisation his father used to trust committing questionable actions is disappointing to a fault.

“They would have taken their chance when we were still distracted yesterday,” she says, watching the way he lets his thumb sail lightly over Shiro’s brow, worry smothered under the soothing touch as Keith lets his eyes drink in the sight of the man on his stomach again. “Or even last night, when we were asleep.”

“They would see you,” he replies, soft and yielding enough for her heart to clench. “They would see Shiro, alive again when he was supposed to be dead three years ago.”

She’s quiet this time, letting her eyes flicker towards the opened window as the evening breeze hum along with the sinking sun.

There are specks ignited in the middle of the room, lit up by the world’s light and floating aimlessly as if they are the stars in this vacuum of space. She can reach out and touch, she can imagine the tiniest bump of feeling against the lines of her fingerprints, or she would feel nothing.

Keith inhales through his teeth when Shiro shifts, turning his face into the warmth of his touch more with something akin to a hum thrumming against his throat, hand slowly curling against Keith’s thigh. And just like that, both Krolia and Keith are frozen in time, enchanted with this human who has gone through so many misfortunes that some would weep for him, weep for the things he unwillingly engaged in. He proves himself better in the medal of his white hair and the empty socket of his missing arm, and prove them wrong in the scar stretching across the bridge of his nose.

She finds that, if stardust clings onto his body in shameful obstinacy, then he would live the myth of saints the ancients once grovelled for.

It’s when his chest rises and falls to its steady rhythm that she allows herself to breathe, dropping her crossed arms to her sides.

“They could be waiting.” Keith says, enraptured to his lover more than ever.

Krolia considers leaving the answer dispersed among the air, but only tilts her head that’s enough for him to know. “For what?”

He shrugs, a simple gesture for a loaded question, but it still settles onto her skin like a fog. “Us, if we’re not careful.”

“Their persistence isn’t something to look down on,” she reminds him, a warning on its own. “If there’s anything both Galra and human have in common, it’s this.”

“Our arrival should’ve made them scatter around like rats,” When he leans down, it’s to plant a lingering kiss onto Shiro’s forehead, fingers brushing away what hair that bars him from getting to Shiro directly; directly and effectively, because Keith has Shiro with him again, and he isn’t going to let the threat of loss crush their windpipe for the next of their lifetime. “Them being quiet could either mean they’re planning something or are already in the process of doing it.”

“It makes me anxious,” she admits, a sigh escaping through her nose. “If we were to stay longer on Olkarian, would anything have gone different?”

“No. Not until Haggar make the first move, or we figure something out that will permanently damage whatever leftovers there are left,” He worries his bottom lip from where he’s still hunched over Shiro, contemplative. It’s then he straightens up to meet her eyes again. “For now, it would be better if we stay in the low and heal. I have a feeling she won’t hold back her punches after this.”

“For how long, Keith?” Krolia lets herself lean against the doorframe then, the weariness of the years she’s been running away from settling on her shoulders again. “It’s been weeks. If we want to avoid getting caught unaware, we have to initiate the hit first. Waiting won’t give us that.”

“Tomorrow,” he says, pleading her with his eyes despite the pinch in his mouth. “After we visit Dad. We’ll go to the Holts like we promised.”

He begs on Shiro’s expense and how the other man needs more rest after getting a body back. She hears the way they’ve talked in the Black Lion the other week, where Keith had —quietly, worryingly— ask about his condition on numerous occasions. Shiro assures him every time, but the droop of his shoulders and the strain in his words says otherwise.

Shiro hates being useless, Krolia sees it despite his best to hide his frustrations from Keith. Her son may have known, if the way he quietly nods and stays by Shiro’s side indicates anything.

The nightmares aren’t helping, from how Shiro shudders and moans at the phantom pain as he sleeps makes Keith lay beside him more than he is piloting the lion. With how their journeys are longer nowadays, it’s only a blessing the Black Lion is able to fly on its own when Keith has his attention solely on Shiro.

Krolia sees how the bags under Keith’s eyes never really left, and nods. “Alright. We’ll wait until tomorrow.”

Keith sighs softly, relieved. “Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

When Shiro awakens, it’s to feel the softest brush of lips against his temple that allows his eyes to flicker open. He sees the way Keith hunches over him, fresh from the shower and in his civilian clothes.

“We’ll be back in an hour,” Keith whispers against his skin, eyes bright as he leans back the slightest bit. “If you need anything, just give me a call.”

The dark sky still prides itself as Van Gogh’s Starry Night, but the cool air drifting in tells Shiro it’s early morning at best, and the sound of crickets are quieter then they have been last night.

From how there are muted movements coming from the opened door, Krolia is up as well.

Shiro tilts his face to Keith, letting his nose graze against his chin as he reaches up to cup Keith’s cheek. “Stay safe.”

Keith covers his hand with his own, kissing into his palm. “You too, and get some sleep.”

“I think I’ve gotten enough to last me a few years more,” Shiro jokes quietly despite the way he settles back into his pillow, hand lowered to his chest. “But, okay.”

Keith chuckles under his breath, pushing away the hair from his eyes. “Don’t do anything stupid for the next hour.”

“Can’t, you’re taking all the stupid with you.”

Keith lets the corner of his mouth twitch up at how quickly Shiro makes it into a reference —how similar they are with those characters in terms of devotion; one searches hard and wide for the other to come back, the other promises the existence of their bond until the end of the line— and the flutter in Shiro’s chest is the fruit of how his smile makes everything seem far too tender for their own good.

If this is the life Shiro would give his all to live in, then he would take it within the second.

There’s some reluctance in how Keith straightens himself up, and Shiro yawns as the residue of sleep still hangs onto his eyelids, forcing him to look at Keith through lowered lashes. “Sleep, I’ll wake you up before we leave.”

“Say hi to your dad for me,” Shiro says, watching how Keith crosses the space to get to the door.

When he looks back, there’s the same grief Shiro sees from all those years ago of youth and unsated curiosity, but it’s subdued by the small smile Keith gives him. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

The door closes with a quiet click, and Shiro’s left staring at the ceiling with something akin to regret simmering underneath his sternum.

He owes them this, at least, after the things they do to make sure he stays comfortable the whole time they’ve been inside the Black Lion and at Olkarian. He owes them this, because their family needed each other more than they need him at the moment.

There won’t be anyone at the graveyard at this time of the day, since it’s too early, still too dark. But, it’s enough for Krolia to finally see what’s become of her husband without letting anyone be alarmed by her presence.

Shiro finds himself unable to sleep again even if the air around him tempts him to. With effort, he pushes himself up with a groan escaping free, the only hand he has plants itself on the mattress to steady himself from falling to the side. The muscles of his shoulder is tight from the chilly air, and he reminds himself to smear some ointment Ryner has given him to prevent the pain from taking over half of his body again.

Until then, he busies himself with a shower.

There’s new a type of effort when he undresses, where he’s been practicing on taking off his shirt and pants with only a hand as the emptiness whiffs at his right. He tugs and picks onto them until he’s bare and the morning chill washes onto him with a shiver; sometimes, when they’re still at Olkarian, Keith can’t help but intervene, smoothly doing his work for him and Shiro only stares at his bitten lips in wonderment.

The moment Shiro steps into the spray of cold water, he lets out a harsh breath against the tiled walls.

It’s when the sun edges up the horizon and he’s just finished packing the last of their supplies did Keith and Krolia get back as they promised. Shiro hears the engine roaring into nothingness when he walks out to greet them, and is almost surprised at how light both of them carry themselves as they disembark. There are twin smiles on their faces, content, whatever bumps they’ve faced finally passed and left behind for good.

Keith smiles a bit wider when he sees him; Shiro can imagine how he looks with the black shirt and blue jeans he wears —found along with the secret stash of food hidden inside the boxes by the shelf— leaning against the door frame with an arm around his waist as the morning sun glows softly against him. It’s Keith’s father’s clothes, Krolia tells them then, and Shiro fits into it like a glove even if a sleeve is half empty by his side.

He can’t help but be comfortable in these old clothes, just as he can’t help but be a little smug at noticing the flash of ember in those eyes as Keith steps into his space.

“How are you?” Keith murmurs, wrapping his arms around his waist to press a kiss under his jaw.

Shiro waits for Krolia to walk inside the house before he’s pulling Keith closer to his chest and kisses him fully on the lips, smothering the chuckles Keith makes against his mouth when he notices his antics.

“So modest,” Keith breathes, delighted. “It’s not like she’s gonna make a comment.”

“I can’t help but be a little embarrassed whenever I kiss you in front of your mother,” Shiro replies, the tip of his ears heating up. When Keith grins, Shiro ignores it mostly to study his windswept hair, having the sudden urge to run his fingers through it. “Have some decency, Keith.”

“She doesn’t mind, trust me,” Keith offers him another kiss on his cheek, and then he’s pulling Shiro inside the shack. “Come on, time to say goodbye to good ol’ Bessie.”

“Bessie?”

Keith shrugs. “The shack’s been the only thing that protected me from the dust ever since my old house burnt down, so a name for it seemed right then.”

Shiro lightly squeezes his fingers as the warmth inside his chest spreads under the little information he’s been entrusted with. Houses being burned down because of the heat is a common thing at this side of the area, especially houses made from wood, but he never thought Keith would be prey to it as well. “Why Bessie, though?”

“Most common name for a sentimental character in a children’s cartoon. I picked it up subconsciously when I was younger, and it stuck until I had to stay in Garrison.” Keith lets go of his hand to pick up one of the bags from the makeshift coffee table, hefting the strap onto his shoulder as he laughs a little. “It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s not,” Shiro lets his eyes flitter against the map that’s been tacked to the large board, recognising how the post-its and handwriting still remains the way it is in Keith’s hurried scribble all over the surface. He remembers the first time he sees this, just hours after he lands on Earth, and he’s floored at the type of dedication Keith puts into finding an object, or _something_ , merely based on a _feeling_.

Shiro always admired him for it, has always been impressed at how Keith’s able to hone his attention into getting what he wants until it comes to him.

When he turns to face Keith then, the man is quietly regarding him with almost a tentative look on his face, unsure on how to advance this quiet impression settling around them again. Shiro stares back, searching pass the bow of his lips and cut of his jaw, before lingering on the scar stretching up his cheek.

He crushes the looming guilt by letting his fingers brush near it; it’s already scabbing over, a sight that reminds Shiro just how much pain he caused upon this man who saves him through stars and galaxies until he’s so sure that nothing would ever compare to what Keith has done.

It should make Shiro fall to his knees and beg Keith to forgive him. Shiro still wants to, but he knows Keith wouldn’t let him sob at his feet with the shame of a pauper to his king.

“And then,” Keith says, not breaking his look. “I found you.”

Shiro smiles, dragging his fingers lightly down the length of Keith’s neck before he steps back to reach for the other bag, hearing the way Keith breathes out slowly. “You did.”

When he straightens up, it’s to find Keith leaning forward for another kiss, almost adamant in keeping the essence of him there as their lips slide against each other smoothly. It’s intoxicating, having the taste of him after what feels like ages of no contact — it’s having the ability to touch, to smell, to have Keith with him again. Shiro can feel himself clutching onto Keith’s waist as he deepens the kiss with a new angle, tongue swiping against his bottom lip.

“I found you,” Keith exhales through his teeth, hands clutching onto the edge of his shirt. “I found you.”

There’s giddiness in how those words impact Shiro more than it should, breaking the restraint he keeps intact as he lets his hand slide up to cradle Keith’s nape, tilting his head to his way.

But, Keith is already softening their kiss with little pecks all over his mouth and hands dragging up his chest, and the fire vibrating underneath his skin smooths over into a hum that settles in heavy satisfaction within his veins.

Shiro gives him one last long kiss before he breaks away, letting their foreheads touch as he sighs languidly. Keith traces his jaw with his thumb, staring up into his eyes.

“I’ll do it again in a heartbeat.”

“I can never know how to properly thank you for everything you did,” Shiro says quietly. “I don’t know if I ever could.”

“You make it sound as if you owe me something,” Keith accuses. “You don’t.”

“Keith—“

“You _don’t_ ,” he repeats, firmly this time, before he leans back to drill Shiro with a look. “This is something I’d do for you without question. I don’t want a prize for it.”

Shiro holds onto the stubborn gleam of his eyes, before he cocks his head to the side. “I’ll make it up all the same.”

Keith shakes his head in a vague sense of disbelief. “Shiro—“

“I want to,” Keith raises an eyebrow at him, and Shiro smiles wryly. “I need you to allow me to do it.”

“If I do, what would you give me?” Keith asks, because he’s curious nonetheless, even if he’s unused in getting that kind of attention from Shiro again.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Shiro says, adjusting the bag strap on his shoulder. “But, I’ll think of one that’s at least half significant as the things you did for me.”

“You’re too much.” Keith says, turning away to fight down the smile and the pink spreading against his cheeks.

Shiro notices the effort and grins, already thinking of a witty reply, before Krolia walks out of the bedroom with a duffel bag of her own while holding onto something that resembles a jacket.

It’s brown, the colour fading around the collar and the cuffs of the sleeves, and it’s obvious it used to be an object of sentiment from how worn it appears. With how crestfallen Keith looks the moment he lands his eyes on it, Shiro knows there’s so much more than its appearance as Krolia rubs the material between her fingers, something akin to pain burning in her eyes as she stares at it wordlessly.

Shiro takes a small step towards her, and that causes her to snap her head up as he holds out a hand, smiling in reassurance. “I’ll get the bag for you.”

Krolia eyes him for a moment, before she shrugs the duffel off her shoulder and passes it to him, hand now clutching tightly around the jacket. Shiro meets Keith’s look briefly before he walks out of the shack, letting both mother and son have a moment more.

Once Shiro has the bags inside the compartment of the hoverbike, Keith and Krolia walk out of the door, heads lowered slightly.

The jacket, another piece of clothing that surely belongs to the father and lover both of them deeply missed, is now tied around Krolia’s waist.

Keith shoves the last bag into the compartment before he swings his leg onto the seat, making sure there’s enough space for both Shiro and Krolia to squeeze in as he starts the engine. Once all of them are in place, Shiro cranes his head towards the hills behind the shack, worry gnawing in his gut. “The lions would be safe until we get back?”

“Yeah,” Keith says, passing around helmets for them to wear. “The shields are enough to withstand any sort of fire power or hacking. If anything happens, they’ll be able to hold it up until we get to them.”

“Will it be enough?” Krolia asks from behind Shiro, tightening the knot of the sleeves jacket.

“It should be, Pidge and Hunk updated their systems at the castle.” With a twist of his wrists, the hoverbike roars underneath them, and Shiro wraps an arm around his waist securely. “Hold on.”

The journey to Holts residence is a fifty-minute drive, since Keith has to take the old road instead of the new highway that cuts through the nearby town. They swerve around it; passing trees canopying above their heads, the wind bursting into the visors as Shiro soaks in the sight of the everlasting road stretching in front of them.

When he spreads his fingers against Keith’s stomach, Shiro swears he’s able to feel the way he laughs before the hoverbike accelerates with speed.

 

* * *

 

“I thought I told you I don’t need it.”

Shiro’s sulking, and Keith has to hide his amusement as he sits on one of the chairs, the back of it turned to the front so he can drape his hands over it.

The rest of the team lounge at the living room upstairs with Colleen and Sam entertaining them while the other fifty percent of the Holt household flock around Shiro like a pair of ruffled birds, their eyes bright as they gesture towards the new arm perched on the small stilts like a trophy to behold.

It’s pearl white, the elbow and knuckles light grey while the energy courses in between the folds are apple green. Keith thinks this arm looks softer than his old arm, where the silver had been harsh to look at while this model is almost as if it’s made out of the pale colours of steel. Shiro, on the other hand, has his shoulders locked while he stares at the arm in quiet exasperation.

“We made this while we were still on Olkarian,” Pidge begins, and there’s a sparkle in her eyes whenever she’s gotten her hands on a new project. “So, it’s pretty much advanced than whatever we have here on Earth because of Ryner’s tech. Its compatibility with a host would be easier than if we were to use our modern tech, since Olkarian tech requires the essence of our soul as much as the technicalities of a machine for it to work. Once we passed the basics, it’ll be just about having the ability to hold a pen without dropping it.”

Shiro arch up both of his eyebrows. “This would assume the body is stable enough to withstand an alien object on itself.”

“Stability, like having the centre of your weight lopsided?” Matt asks, leaning against the table with a grin.

Keith snorts, pulling their attention to him. “You know, space spoiled us with all the cool stuff.”

“You mean, space spoiled _them_ with all the cool stuff until they build a mechanical arm when I told them I don’t want one,” Shiro huffs, dropping onto the empty chair beside Keith.

“It’s convenient, Shiro,” Matt says, crossing his arms against his chest. “Stop being a baby about it and accept our gift to you.”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Hunk asks, stepping inside the workroom with a tray of mango juiced filled glasses.

“Shiro’s refusing our hard work because he wants to be armless for the rest of his life,” Pidge tells him, shrugging. Then, she pops out her bottom lip into an exaggerated pout. “Your blood, sweat, and tears are all for nothing, Hunk. Sorry about that.”

“Oh, woe is me,” Hunk sniffs loudly, setting the tray on the only empty space by the far corner of the table before he starts to pass the glasses to them. “But, really though, we’ve test through everything and it’s _cool._ You won’t feel a single thing out of ordinary once you have it on, and it’ll be as if you actually grew out a new arm instead of it being installed on you.”

“That’s exactly what you’ll be doing if I agree to this,” Shiro points out, accepting the treaty as he takes a sip.

“Yeah, but the experience will be enthralling because it’s Olkarian tech and not, you know, Garrison tech.”

“Which would be a nightmare.” Matt mutters against the edge of his glass, and Hunk nods in agreement.

“See?” Keith says dryly. “Spoiled.”

“I can promise you it’s different from whatever icky hocus pocus that’s been forced onto you,” Pidge says, smiling softly in understanding that Keith is able to feel the way Shiro relaxes a bit against him. “It’s not bugged, it’s not programmed for you to go berserk on anyone, and there is not a single speck of anything Haggar-related for it to touch you. We made sure of that.”

Shiro stays quiet long enough for Matt to add, “We’re just making sure you’ll be able to defend yourself properly. I know you’ll adapt in doing everything with only one arm in the future, but this,” he taps the arm with his finger. “Will escalate things to your pace. You’ll have full control of it.”

That is what Shiro wants to hear, because Keith notices the way Shiro looks at the arm in a new light from his place beside him. “I’ll give you my answer by this evening,” Shiro says slowly, rubbing his flesh thumb against the rim of his glass. He let his gaze settle on them. “Is that okay?”

“Sure thing,” Hunk assures, clasping a hand onto his shoulder. “Just tell us when and we’ll see how it goes from there.”

Shiro’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Thanks.”

 

* * *

 

It’s two days later when Galra came to Earth, it’s two days later when more ion cannons are aimed at their way.

Scatter, is what Keith screams when it’s far too much for them to handle, and the lions fall out until they’ve become individuals of their own. “We need to make them shoot at each other,” he says to their comms, voice hoarse from shouting. “Some would be too busy shooting at us that others won’t be fast enough to avoid the hit. It’s not ideal but it’s worth the shot.”

It works for a while until Allura says the only way for them to end this once and for all if they take down Haggar. “She takes the secrets of Altean Alchemy by force, the only way for us to beat her is if I used it against her. I know the secrets to her powers too, let me go to her.”

Lance screams her name, but she’s already out of her lion and flying towards the command ship flying just above Earth soil. They’re down to one lion as Galra and sentries alike have all spread across the land like ants, marching through the town and attacking everyone opposing the Galra Empire on sight.

“We have to stay focus,” Keith says, pulling onto his levers as he flies Black nearer towards land. “We all have our individual perks, use that against them and—“

What cuts him off is the scream that comes from his comms, and Keith feels his blood freeze as Shiro hacks his throat out until something hits him with an audible _thump_ of metal against flesh.

“Shiro!” Keith tries to locate him through his scanners, fingers frantic as he pushes into the buttons. “Shiro, what happened—“

“You’re getting more disappointing by the day, Champion,” Sendak’s growl filters in, overlapping Shiro’s groan of pain that makes Keith clutch onto his levers tightly with air stuck to his throat. “What fight we had back on Ares was more of a challenge. You’re pathetic now, _weak_. Worse than Zarkon’s brat when he tried to rule the Empire with _words_.”

There’s a snarl from Shiro as Keith zips towards where they are, ignoring his teammates shouts for him as he tunnels onto the sight of them fighting hand-to-hand, throwing punches and kicks with all their might, weapons clashing mercilessly. Keith waits for Shiro to land a kick strong enough until Sendak is thrown into a building, causing it to collapse upon impact until rubble buries him from sight. Without a second thought, Keith punches into the button and fire.

Blue light streaks through until there’s nothing left of Sendak he can see, and when Keith searches for Shiro, he finds the man lowering his arm from the last of the blast and looks up at him with wide eyes.

The new arm suits well with his white hair, his weapon of choice being a sword that’s similar to the one he used before, only it’s green, and the weapon itself is his limb instead it being a seperate one of its own. His armour still shines under the evening sun despite the soot and dust he’s rolled in, hair carded softly with the breeze as it hangs in front of his eyes, and he’s grinning so wide Keith can’t help but smile back.

“Thanks,” Shiro breathes, and Keith can’t help but laugh loosely.

“Don’t mention it.”

He changes his sword back into an arm, and then he’s pushing his hair off his forehead with a short, manic laugh of his own. “Can you fight with me?”

Keith parts his mouth in surprise, and Lance barges in through their comms before he can say anything else.

“We’re fine in the air,” he says. “Just leave the Black Lion with Sam before you two kick some butt, the people need you more down there.”

“Yeah, you might accidentally hit the civilians if you use your lion,” Pidge adds, grunting slightly. “Now _go_ , we can’t waste anymore time.”

Keith thinks, if the world isn’t at stake and he isn’t half drunk with adrenaline, he would have considered the option as absurd.

But then, he jumps out of the mouth of the lion and uses his thrusters to soften the blow of his landing, where Shiro is already waiting for him at the bottom. When his feet touches the ground, a swarm of their enemies immediately run to their way, pelts of blasters coming in fast.

It comes to him then that Keith is ready for this long ago.

Keith fights for what he believes he lost, he fights for how the present is aflame from the hands of those who are hateful towards peace, and he fights for the mourning that will surely arrive once all has come to their senses. Many have lost lives, their families, and their personal belongings because of the greed that consumes others. These are the monsters who have leached out the life from someone’s soul, and these are the monsters who will pay for their crimes.

What better way to avenge those poor people than to have the tip of his Marmoran blade pushed into their enemies’ throats? There isn’t a word, a sentence, or a speech that can help them now, preaches of better ways of ruling would not save them from his bared fangs; what Lotor would have done might have worked in the beginning, but the violence these beasts embed into Keith has gotten far to the point he doesn’t care if it’s brutal.

He fights for the innocent, he fights for the people he loves, and he fights for himself.

There isn’t any obstacle that dare stop him — Keith fights until he notices his peers joining in the fray around him, he fights until he sees his mother just within his reach with a snarl on her face. Keith bounces his sword into his left palm before he impales a sentry in its chest, and pulls it out to swipe through another’s waist.

He fights, he fights and he sees Shiro doing the same mesmerising dance both of them have accommodated each other with since the beginning of their story. Keith sees Shiro and thinks of all the words he has said to him and how all of them have given impact to his choices, his needs, his wants. Keith sees Shiro and thinks of sunset streaming through the drapes of his old shack, stretching leisurely against the golden expanse of his skin and the white sheets of the bed as Shiro stares at Keith with steel eyes that pierces through his armour of uncertainty.

Keith sees Shiro and thinks of his kiss, his touch, his laughter.

Keith sees Shiro and thinks of what they’ve been and gone through.

With a deep breath, Keith turns to Shiro as Shiro turns to him.

Their chests heave with each sharp inhale before they’re clambering towards each other; pushing away falling bodies and stabbing those who try to get in their way. Keith sees the same desperation reflected back to him in those eyes, sees how Shiro forms his name with his lips before they’re falling into each other’s arms and catching the other at the same time.

Keith gasps, more towards the feeling of having Shiro’s arms clutching tightly around him than the sound of a bomb going off behind them, wanting to see more of each other as they pull their helmets off. Keith grips onto his arm, and tilts his head towards him.

“Marry me,” Keith croaks, wanting and needingly. Shiro’s eyes widen and he’s tightening his hold onto him. “Marry me. I love you too much for me to not ask you this, I want to be with you for the next of this life.”

Shiro doesn’t dare say anything, far too shocked at the sudden question dropped by him to even form a single word. But, he reaches forward and cups Keith’s face, bringing their foreheads together until Keith is breathing in the smell of sweat and copper Shiro wears like his armour and how it makes their touch slick. But, they don’t care, and Keith lost himself into Shiro again as the man answers his question.

“ _Yes_ ,” Shiro laughs through the word and it makes Keith grip onto his wrists, nebulas and stars bursting in his chest. “Yes, a thousand times, _yes_.”

Keith’s about to reply when suddenly a sword comes down at the corner of his eye. He quickly jerks out his sword and blocks the blow, watching the way the purple slits of the sentry’s face seers back at him with absolute hate.

There’s fire climbing up the vines of his patience and Keith kicks the sentry in the back of its legs before bringing his sword down onto it. When he whips around to look for Shiro, he’s already engaged in a fight with two sentries.

“Krolia!” Keith runs towards Shiro’s way with his sword raised. “Marry us!”

“This isn’t the _time_ , Keith,” she snaps, holding off the mace of a Galra Commander that’s threatening to crush her.

“Yes,” Keith helps Shiro get rid one of the sentries before three more pop into its place. “It _is_.”

“Gods, give me strength—“

Krolia zips out of her tight spot and lets the mace bury itself into the same place she has been standing from before. She raises the sword she holds and stabs the Commander in the heart, making sure she’s dead with another one to her gut.

Krolia glances at Keith with irritation blazing in her eyes. Another Galra Commander screaming her name comes vaulting towards her, and Krolia braces herself against impact. “I call upon the ancients of our ancestors and the High Divinity of our clans—“

She speaks of deities and saints Keith doesn’t recognise, of trust and weaknesses, of devotion and death. She speaks of how souls are one and only one until birth, and how they will be together even through death, the afterlife, and all those come after it.

“—I call upon those I spoke of to see both are one and one is all,” she continues, breath laboured as she pushes off the dead body to the ground. “I call upon my Fathers and Mothers to see both are one and one is all. I seek for your Grace to bind them together for eternity until the Doom of Existence.”

She closes her eyes briefly, before she inhales deeply through her nose. “You may now rejoice, for your love is now bare to the heavens above and all those seem fit to see.”

Keith, with his heart in his throat and eyes only for one, pulls Shiro closer until their lips find each other. They kiss until Keith feels relief soar through the walls of his veins and what love his has for Shiro just burns brighter at every second. They kiss until Shiro holds his face firmly in his hands and steps closer until the shell of their armour is the only barrier between them.

There is no love like them, and Keith laughs into it because he _can_.

They’re force to part when another Galra tries to attack them unaware, but they’re ready. They’re ready for what will hit them and attack in twice the force, all while knowing they have each other side by side and nothing, not even death, can separate them.

The bond they have with the Black Lion has proven that, did it not? But it goes beyond that, it goes above the bridge of a sentient machine.

They have held each other’s essence in their palms since their eyes met in that classroom, and the raw being of their meeting is what weaves them together.

For as many times as it takes, they are one.


End file.
